When I was growing up the opportunity to apply for a position on the school paper passed by. I did not nibble. The thought of having to talk to somebody to get an interview terrified me. But, beyond that I didn’t feel I could think of anything to write about. It didn’t occur to me that there might be an editor who would direct me toward the stories.
What I was thinking about this morning is how far I’ve come. And, it has only been recently where these steps have been made. Granted, I’ve had my website at Talking To Spirit for several years, but planning and executing the pages there were pretty large tasks. They took an awful lot of thought and effort and I generally worried a great deal over them. They also didn’t happen very often. Actually, I worry about a lot of things, but that’s another story. Anyway, getting something from idea in my mind to a finished webpage was a lot of work.
But, with this blog I spew. Interesting turn of phrase. Spew nice, Dear. Ha. I guess that’s because I’m on a diet these days and in the back of my head I’m thinking about food. Writing in my own blog has been a revelation to me. I can take the tiniest germ of an idea and work it. I can do with the ideas that come to me what I like to do out in the real world where I bore people senseless. Except, I like to think I’m not boring folks here. At least, they aren’t writing me about it. Maybe I have bored them senseless. Maybe there’s this guy sitting in front of his computer in Kansas who’s so bored he’s picking his nose as he reads this. Maybe he’s so involved with what he’s doing he’s really not even interested in what happens next.
Hmph. Not riveting. Which brings me to another thing I’ve never really been able to do. I can’t write stories. It just hasn’t really happened. Once, it did. That book is under the bed. I tried submitting it to publishers a grand total of 7 times. All rejections. And, I gave up. Actually, the story pretty much stinks now. My husband says I should try again to get it published, but if I thought it was no good then how can I stand behind it now? It’s like a photograph that was taken of you back in the 8th grade with funny glasses and crocked teeth. You just don’t look like that anymore. But, maybe writing a story could be my next step. If it all proceeds well here in the blog, which is one type of writing, can’t I direct that energy into writing a piece of fiction?
I can't say writing that book was a waste of time, though. I learned how you had to have discipline to write. I learned how you had to sit there when nothing was happening and stay there until something did happen. I learned how thrilling it was to get lost in the story. I learned how wonderful it was to have your characters come to life and begin to tell their own story. I was only there for the ride. Actually, now that I think about it, it's actually very much like channeling is.
I’m 50 years old now. Matured. Ripe like cheese. (Some guide just said that…I actually don’t think it’s all that complimentary.) How else could I describe myself? Fearless. Well, maybe it’s going to take courage to push myself here. I can’t be assured that anything I’m going to write is going to be interesting. But, that part of me, the inside part, the part that reaches backward to my childhood, the part that reaches backwards into previous lifetimes for inspiration wants to talk.
You know what’s funny? Earlier in this piece I said I worry a lot. Then I said I was fearless. I’ll have to think about that one. Maybe there are no absolutes. (Clapping in the background). Okay, at least you guys aren’t holding your noses. Thanks.